


The Ones That Love Us

by Everliah



Series: Marauders [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, major feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-17 23:17:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3547418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Everliah/pseuds/Everliah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'And even though it was impossible, he could have sworn his dead heart beat just one last time. Because after all, he thought with a smile, the ones that love us never truly leave us.' One-shot about Sirius and James meeting again in the Afterlife, based off a fact JKR released about The Veil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ones That Love Us

**Author's Note:**

> This is just another Marauders One-Shot (as you can probably tell, I am absolutely in love with the Marauders concept!) Again, I have to say, I don’t own any of the characters (UNFORTUNATELY)! If I did, Sirius and Remus and James and Lily and Fred (although that’s a different matter entirely) would still be alive!  
> This is just a little one-shot based on a picture I saw saying that the Veil in The Department of Mysteries was actually the very borderline between the living and the dead, and when someone got close to it; the souls of the dead on the other side, recognising a loved one nearby, would attempt to communicate with them. I think it’s a pretty bittersweet idea, whether it’s real or not!  
> So, here it is! Please leave a review, telling me what you think and maybe what the next Marauders One-Shot should include!! Thank you!!

Marauders  
The Ones That Love Us

The first thing that he acknowledged was nothing.   
Against all odds, and every single aspect of the situation; he felt peaceful. His eyes weren’t heavy with the pressure of sleep and his shoulders didn’t sag with the weight of the world. Every conscious thought that swam through his head was muddled and resembled wisps of smoke more than anything else.   
He knew what had happened. He remembered the atrium in the Department of Mysteries; could see the shiny blue tile light up dramatically as the spells being cast down below illuminated the entire room. He remembered the dark haired boy, with circular glasses perched on the edge of his nose, firing various spells in quick procession, at his side. It was when he had proudly shouted, “Nice one, James!” that he had heard it.  
A soft whisper, a pull. He couldn’t fully explain the feeling, but it was a drawing sensation that disarmed him momentarily.   
“Sirius.”  
The voice was barely more than a murmur; a ghosting caress that tickled his calloused skin and snaked around his limbs.   
“Sirius.”  
It was strangely familiar. It tugged on his heart chords like it was playing a violin, and he could almost hear the hauntingly beautiful notes play around the hall, marred by screams and yells that quite obviously accompanied battle scenes.   
“Sirius.”  
He knew that he got distracted easily. It was a flaw, a hamartia, of his. But there was something about this distraction that caused time to freeze. He was vaguely aware of the spell hurtling towards him. And yet, he barely felt it as it made contact with his chest, temporarily winding him. He barely felt himself stumble backwards on unsteady feet. He barely felt the silky touches that were there but not there, real but not real, all at the same time.   
He barely heard his godson scream. Although he felt the agony and the pain. He could see Harry’s face crumpled in such a deep sadness that it hurt him, and he struggled to break free of Remus’ arms that held him back and stopped him from running forward impulsively.   
Remus. The man was mainly holding Harry, but he could see the shock and hope fading rapidly from his bright eyes. He could not help the guilt from consuming his lungs, tainting the last breath that escaped from his parted mouth. He had left his best friend alone.   
But he barely acknowledged any of that, barely felt himself surrender willingly and fall into Death’s sweet arms… Because he finally recognised the voice.  
“Sirius.”

He stood up. The world was bright and he squinted, reaching a hand up to shield his eyes from the glare. He didn’t know for how long he stood there, but eventually the light drained and various shades of colour started to return. It only seemed to take a few seconds for the world to regain focus and in that time, he looked around curiously. The walls were made of a warm-coloured brick that complimented the dark wooden table that acted as the centrepiece to the entire room. A vase, bursting with large flowers, sat on the top. His eyes were immediately drawn to the flowers and he stared at them with a pang in his gut. Lilies.   
The room he was stood in was also familiar, like the title of a book that you read long ago, but scarcely retained. It was a kitchen--that much was obvious--with a small bottle-green chair resting in one corner. Light flooded in from high windows, making the room quite splendid and warm and although it was cosy and home-like, he knew that the kitchen belonged to someone with money.   
The brown wooden door creaked open in front of him, and a young man stepped through. He stopped and stared and smiled; his lips quirking in that grin that he was so accustomed to. He didn’t realise how much he had missed that grin.  
“Hey Padfoot.”  
He recognised his voice, it was the same voice that had been calling out to him what seemed like just seconds ago. He recognised his face as the one that was screaming and grieving him as he fell backwards though the Veil, and it was the same but different in so many ways.   
He felt choked and all he could do was drink in the features of his friend. The black, messy hair that stuck up in every single direction, and the hazel eyes that twinkled still with mischievous glee, and the glasses that rested on the end of his nose.  
“James.”  
He could not do anything more than stumble into his best friend’s, his brother’s, arms. James gripped him just as hard and pretended to not feel the wetness of Sirius’ cheeks as he clutched him tighter. They stood like that, locked in the embrace that conveyed all of the guilt and the grief and the love.  
When James got his voice back, he warned jokingly, “Woah, don’t go getting all sensitive on me,” but nevertheless hugged him still.   
“Prongs,” Sirius breathed, his voice catching with emotion. “I am so so sorry.”  
That was when James finally pulled back, knuckles white as he held onto his friend’s shoulders. His hazel eyes were full of an unidentifiable energy as he said, “Don’t. Don’t you dare blame yourself, Sirius. It was you and Remus who had to suffer, and I had to watch it, selfishly wishing that I could be with you somehow…” Then he smiled sadly. “Death isn’t the worst thing that could happen to a man, Pad. After all, it is but the next great adventure.”  
Sirius just shook his head slightly and laughed under his breath. “You ponce, Potter. You absolute ponce.”  
The ponce in question put a hand on his heart mockingly and assumed an offended expression, causing them both to grin impishly.   
What seemed like minutes passed and their grins faded off of their faces.   
“You recognise this place?” James asked, shoving his hands deep in his pockets and strolling around the spacious kitchen. “I’ll try not to be ashamed if you don’t, but… well, I mean, you should remember your childhood home, right Pad?”  
And then it hit him, rendering him breathless.   
“Home…”  
He was in the Potter Manor.   
James chuckled. “Not exactly. I tried looking around the rest of the house, but whenever I left, I ended up in Hogwarts. Soon, I figured out –by myself, may I emphasise greatly—that this is in Hogwarts. Now, young grasshopper, patience is virtue,” he held up a hand to stop Sirius from interrupting, “so shut the hell up so I can continue boasting about my impeccable independent mystery-solving skills! Anyway, as I was saying, this room that we are currently standing in is called The Room of Requirement,” at this, he wiggled his fingers for emphasis. “More commonly known as The-Come-And-Go-Room. You see, it changes itself for the users’ needs and how we didn’t find this place during our time here is a mystery all on its own! I’m very disappointed in you, Pads. This could have been our man-cave.  
“It took me a while to understand why it was the Manor. I hadn’t been there in years, not since mum and dad…” James looked away hastily and they both felt their hearts twinge just a little bit more. “But then I realised that this is what I needed, what I… required, if you will. I needed a cause to move on and fully accept the fact that I was… dead.”  
Silence settled on them for a while as Sirius let his eyes roam the kitchen he had not seen in decades. He didn’t know what to say, and was glad that James seemed to break the tension.  
“But even though being dead meant that I could see our mum and dad again, I… I couldn’t just leave you and Remus. I couldn’t. And then I realised that I didn’t really want to be dead if it meant that I would never see you again, and that sounds selfish because I know that I didn’t want you dead too… But I wanted you with me, Padfoot.”  
He didn’t speak, overcome with emotion at James’ confession. It seemed James wasn’t finished anyway, as he carried on.  
“Lily was furious, you know.” Upon seeing his friend’s look of confusion, he explained. “How you were blamed for it. I knew they were wrong. You wouldn’t betray me. You wouldn’t betray your brother, not for anything. And then they wouldn’t even give you H-Harry.” His voice broke upon speaking his son’s name, and tears filled his eyes.   
“My son, Sirius. He’s supposed to defeat the darkest wizard this world has ever known… He’s just a child.” James’ face crumpled and Sirius strode towards him with the most conviction he had had since he’d gotten here. “  
He put his warm, large hands on his best friend’s youth-splattered cheeks.   
“Listen to me, James. Harry… I am so proud of your son, do you hear me? He is such an astounding boy. You and Evans would be proud… I know I am. I am so proud to be his godfather.”   
James stared at his friend with wide eyes, a tear fell down his face, slipping over the curve of his mouth and down the slope of his cheekbone.  
“I never got to meet him. The Harry I know is a chubby one year old, flying around on a toy broomstick that could barely make it half a metre off the ground. He doesn’t even know who I am, Sirius, not really-“  
“The ones who love us never really leave us. Even if it seems like they have. They’re always in here,” and Sirius lifted a finger to touch the place on James’ chest where, under all the layers of decaying skin, a heart once beat with fervour and passion. “He might not know you personally, but he knows that you loved him with everything you had. And sometimes, that’s enough.”  
James stepped away, regaining his composure and instead leaned against the wall, facing his best friend.   
“When did you get so smart? Y’know, I’m starting to think my presence was a bad influence on your philosophical side.”  
Sirius smirked, chuckling. They both fell silent and just stared at each other.  
“I’ve missed you, Pad.”  
“I’ve missed you too, Prongsie.”  
Sirius smiled at his brother, at all the memories that came flooding back from over fifteen years prior.   
“However much though, I had hoped I wouldn’t be seeing you here anytime soon.”  
“Yet here I am,” Sirius replied impishly, spreading his arms wide.   
“Yet here you are,” James said, leaning forward slightly with a knowing look on his face. His eyes lingered on the wizened appearance his best friend had unwillingly adopted and the wrinkled creases that formed deep grooves in his skin. He wrinkled his nose in mock-disapproval. “It’s a shame you got old.”  
“It’s a shame you didn’t.”  
The reply brought him up short and James put his chin down, nodding.  
“Touché,” he said, seemingly mulling it over in his head. “It is a shame, isn’t it? I think that I’d age better than you. Probably have grown a moustache… Definitely have grown a moustache. I think I would have looked good with a moustache…”  
“One furry problem is enough, mate. Wouldn’t you agree?”  
James sighed wistfully, eyeing his best friend with an indiscernible look. “Regardless, I would have looked better than you. I always was the better-looking one, so it would only make sense.”  
Sirius let out a bark of laughter; the amused expression sticking to his face. “’Was’ being the key term there.” He scoffed. “You wish, Potter. I, personally, think we both know that I will always be the eye-candy of the Marauders-“  
His face dropped at the sound of that word, as did James’.  
“Wow…” James muttered. “Been a long time since I’ve heard that word.”  
“I know,” Sirius said. “Messers Moony, Wormtail-“  
“Snuffles and Prongs!” James interrupted and finished with a sadistic glee as his friend’s expression morphed into one of the utmost offense.  
“For the last time, we are not calling me Snuffles!”  
“You let Harry call you it,” James argued, raising an eyebrow.  
“That’s different. Harry’s nickname was ‘The Chosen One’; I had no chance of living up to that so there was no point in even trying. Yours was Prongs. You’re practically a kitchen appliance-“  
“They’re tongs, Sirius.”  
“Same thing.”  
“I’ll have you know Prongs is a majestic, sexy nickname that suits me, myself and I beautifully.”  
“Please, Potter. You’re dead, don’t tell me you’re delusional as well-“  
“What on earth is going on in here?”  
The interruption to their argument was brought about by a new, feminine voice and both men whipped their heads around to stare at the woman in the doorway.   
Her arms were folded across her chest, adopting her ‘Stern-Stance’ as Sirius used to call it, and her red hair hung in loose curls at her waist. Her lips parted in surprise when she saw him.   
“Sirius…” Lily whispered, and her hand shot up to cover her mouth, tears running freely down her cheeks. She looked so young and beautiful and he felt his heart ache again at the unfairness that Harry would never know his parents.  
“Lily,” he replied and he opened his arms. She ran into them, clutching him tighter and mourning his life. When she pulled away, her small hands cupped his stubble-covered jaw.   
“Harry?” Lily asked, her emerald eyes wide with concern.  
Sirius lifted his own hands to place over hers. “Is just as brave as his father and as kind as his mother.”  
She laughed, although it sounded more like a sob and her hands once more covered her mouth. He turned to look at James, who was smiling at his wife and best friend.  
“Looks just like him as well. Spitting image actually!” Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “God knows what poor Minnie thought when she saw him! Rest assured Prongs, he put her though her paces almost as much as we did!” They both laughed, and Lily reluctantly joined in; her disapproving scowl easily replaced. Sirius let his grey eyes fix on her. “But he has his mother’s eyes.”  
And she smiled as James took her hand and interlocked their fingers. He pressed a kiss to a temple and she leaned into his touch. Sirius watched them and he felt something course through him. It throbbed through his veins, giving him a thrum of energy that made him feel more alive than he had done in the past fifteen years.   
And even though it was impossible, he could have sworn his dead heart beat just one last time.  
Because after all, he thought with a smile, the ones that love us never truly leave us.


End file.
